


i was a boy, i was a tender age

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Not really drarry but it’s a thing of the past, Other, The only way drarry could work in my OPINION, draco admitting his feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 07:00:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16827529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Draco seemed to notice as Harry’s eyes drifted to the black ink on his forearm; he tugged his sleeve down and cleared his throat, “Mother convinced me to visit. Flowers were my idea, I guess,” he laughed dryly, “Never understood how you managed to save everyone.”-Harry never expected to wake up to Draco Malfoy at his door with a bouquet of flowers. Draco never expected to tell Harry Potter the truth.





	i was a boy, i was a tender age

“Harry?”

Harry kneaded his forehead, fingers digging into his messy hair. He cracked open an eye, ogling the toddler standing on the step-stool that Harry had put there just for this purpose. 

The three year old looked at Harry with expectant, bright eyes; the coffee-brown of his deceased father that he almost always seemed to keep.

“What’s wrong, Ted?” Harry said, voice soft but groggy with the middle of the night. Moonlight still shined through the window, a little apartment on a Wizard street in London. 

The blue-haired toddler gripped the comforter in his little pink hands, blinking up at Harry expectantly.

“Did you have a nightmare, Teddy?” Harry asked tenderly. Teddy nodded, turquoise bangs falling into his eyebrows. Whenever in muggle public, Harry had to beg the short-stack to change his hair to match that of Lupin’s; sometimes Teddy would refuse and Harry would have to pretend as if Teddy had gotten into hair dye. 

Harry sighed, rubbing his eye as he threw them comforter off of him. He offered his arms to Teddy, “C’mon, now, love.”

Harry was certainly used to nightmares- he was only twenty, raising a toddler whose parents were his murdered professor and his (also killed, right before his eyes) godfather’s murdered cousin. Teddy was only a baby then, a few weeks old. 

Teddy knew that Harry wasn’t his father, not really, and often stared at the moving photograph of Remus Lupin and Tonks dancing on their wedding day. Remus’s scarred, usually sober face twisting into a laugh, pressing his forehead to the one belonging to the shorter, pink-haired woman. Tonks only grinned at her husband, the silver band on her finger glinting as Molly Weasley took the picture. 

Teddy clambered onto Harry’s bed, tearfully forcing his chubby cheeks into Harry’s chest and squeezed his godfather into a hug. Harry ducked his head and rubbed Teddy’s back, hushing him softly. Harry tried to shift up the pillow, propping it up to lean against. He laid back, pulling the bedding back over himself and his godson. 

“What was it about?” Harry asked quietly, staring at the curtains swaying in the heat blowing from the brazen vent on the floor, “You can tell Harry, y’know.”

“Monster,” Teddy only mumbled, but then sealed his lips. He was falling asleep, and quickly. 

Harry glanced at the muggle alarm clock; 6:30 A.M. on a Saturday. Far too early to be awake, Harry crossed a leg over the other and leaned his head back, closing his eyes.

“It’ll be alright, Ted.” Harry said softly, petting the turquoise hair of the toddler drooling on him. 

-

8:20 A.M., a knock came at the door. 

Harry groaned, awoken for the second time. Teddy had rolled off of him at some point, now nestled into his armpit with his chubby arms wrapped around Harry’s bare bicep. Harry shifted like any parent did; finding the best way to slink his arm away from the steel grip of the toddler. He finally loosened himself, but sitting up presented another problem, shifting the mattress and risking waking up Teddy. Harry did it as gently as possible, another knock coming from the door. Harry ground his teeth, plucking his glasses off of the bedside table and putting it onto his nose. 

Harry scratched the back of his head, muttering about whoever had decided to come to his home this early. Hermione, coming to bring Teddy more educational bedtime stories? Ron, with tickets to a noon Quidditch match? The Ministry, coming to tell him that he needed to work an extra shift on Wednesday? 

Harry patted his chest, making sure he was in fact wearing a shirt. He was, a red t-shirt from his Gryffindor Quidditch days. He paced across the living room, the photographs of everyone he loved moving alongside him. He reached the door finally, palming the doorknob. 

He rose his eye to the peep-hole, eyebrows jumping up as he saw a pale-haired man, clutching a bouquet of flowers. 

Malfoy? He furrowed his eyebrows, but decided to open his front door anyways.

The taller man at the other side flinched as Harry opened the door. His hard, mercury-colored eyes settled on Harry’s face with his usual scowl, before the ends of his mouth curled up, “Potter, a pleasure.”

“What are you doing here?” Harry furrowed his eyebrows. He stared at the bouquet, an amalgamation of white roses, tulips and baby’s breath. It was beautiful, and Harry wondered where he had bought it. Harry returned his eyes to the blond’s face. 

Draco raised a pale eyebrow, smoothing the chest of his tailored dress shirt, “I wouldn’t be so rude to someone who was so concerned over your ‘death’, Potter.”

The familiar spit of the words made Harry squint his eyes, and he leaned in the doorway, “It’s 8:30, visitation hours start at twelve. And besides, wasn’t that, I don’t know, three years ago?”

“Ah, but I brought my golden ticket.” Draco had certainly been polishing himself on muggle films. He offered the bouquet out to Harry, attempting to smile in a boyish way, “I’d like to see my cousin, Theodore, and I’d like to see you, as well.” Draco seemed to swish his next words in his mouth, hesitating, “Harry.”

Harry was surprised at the use of his first name, despite the use of last names only seeming childish now that they were so much older. Draco looked at him expectantly, tapping his foot.

“Of course.” Harry cleared his throat, “He is your cousin.” 

“Thank you.” Draco said, “Is he awake?”

Harry laughed, a hearty laugh that encapsulated Malfoy, “Geez, no! He wakes up in the half-hour.” 

“Oh? Why’s that?” 

“He usually goes to his grandmother’s or the nursery that time- since I’m an Auror, you know.” Harry said, pacing into the kitchen, yawning. 

He glanced behind him, Draco still standing halfway in the door, peering in in an almost afraid manner. 

“You can come in, of course.” Harry said, “You haven’t become a vampire since you left Hogwarts, have you, Malfoy?”

“No, of course not. Please- call me Draco.” Draco cleared his throat as he came in a bit and closed the door behind him with a click, “It’s been a bit since our school rivalry, hasn’t it?” 

“It has.” Harry said, thinking of all the times they had pummeled each other and been pulled apart; the creeping remembrance of Sectumsempera throbbed in his temple. 

Draco had followed Harry like a lost dog, searching the surrounding apartment with eyes that were skittish and confused; he appeared awkward as he held the flowers, shifting hands. 

“Need help with that?” Harry asked, pointing to the flowers. 

“Do you have a vase?” He pronounced it the fancy sort of way, not letting his tongue wrap around the s but instead extend the a, make it fuller and wider. 

Harry wondered with a rolled eye if he pronounced it that way to sound superior to Harry’s English or just because that’s the way he did it. Either way, Malfoy looked on impatiently, tapping his heeled black boot as he stared at a picture of Harry with the Weasleys one Christmas. 

Not trying to make him snap at him- as he so often did as he was irritated- Harry stooped below the sink and took a vase, no fancy pronunciation, and walked to Malfoy and set it down beside him. The clinking of glass seemed to startle Malfoy, and he looked to the vase with wide eyes. 

“Thank you, Harry.” The name came off much more relaxed this time, and Draco enchanted the vase full of water before tucking the flowers in.

“Where’d you get them from?”

“Longbottom,” Malfoy said, wiping his palms together in a way that could be interpreted as an impression of a cinematic villain; Harry laughed, and Draco quickly defended himself, “What? We work together at Hogwarts.”

“No, no, I- nevermind, you wouldn’t understand.” Harry said, waving him off as he leaned against the counter and folded his arms, “You work at Hogwarts?”

“I do.” Draco said, “Potions. I would’ve half expected you to be DADA, you know how hard it is to fill that position.” 

“Wouldn’t want anything to happen to me, now would you, Malfoy?” 

“Draco.” Draco said, clearing his throat, “I don’t like going by my surname. Wizard parents don’t even want to have their children off to Hogwarts once they hear I’ll be teaching.” 

“I feel like you’re here to do more than visit with Teddy.” Harry said, cocking an eyebrow. 

Draco grew flustered, furrowing his brow, “God, you’re unbearable, Harry.”

“That’s the Draco I know,” Harry said, surprised at how easy it was to say his long-time rivals name, “Here, how about I make us an English Breakfast, while Ted’s sleeping?”

“Sounds lovely, if you’re any good at cooking, Pot-Harry.” Draco said, pressing his palms flat to the counter. 

Harry shrugged, “I’m no Jamie Oliver, but I’m not horrid like Ron.” 

“Who?”

“Muggle chef.” Harry answered, striding over to the fridge, “Does it for a living, on the Telly.”

Draco shook his head and rolled his eyes, “Muggles make no sense. What’s enjoyable about watching someone cook?”

“You’re watching me, aren’t you?” Harry teased, pulling out a carton of eggs. 

Draco flushed, and looked away as he shifted his hand on top of the other, “Well, if Teddy were awake, I wouldn’t be.”

“You can sit on the couch, if you’d like.” Harry said, and as the words rolled off his tongue he realized that he couldn’t imagine Draco Malfoy sitting on a couch. “Turn on the TV. I think you’d like Great British Baking Off-,”

“I will do no such thing,” Draco said, “May I sit at your dining table?”

Harry laughed, “I don’t have a dining table, Draco, this is a two bedroom apartment. I’ve got stools, and Ted’s highchair.” 

Harry pointed to the stools that sat just underneath the countertop. Draco wrinkled his nose at them, but let out a soft sigh as he slid out the chair. He sat in it, seemingly uncomfortable now that his back faced the living room. 

“Tea?” Harry asked.

“You have a very disorganized way of cooking.” Draco said, raising a brow as he now looked at the counter littered with food; the carton of eggs sat open, and Harry was simultaneously frying bacon and sausage on the same stove. Harry flicked his wand at a box of teabags, flinging an Earl Grey tea bag into a kettle full of water.

“Hm?” Harry said, looking up from placing the kettle on the stove as he flipped the bacon. 

“Nevermind.” Draco seemed amused, but soon grew somber again, “I’d- I never got the opportunity to thank you, Harry.”

“Thank me for what?” Harry asked, pushing the bacon around. He took a glance back to Draco, who stared at his hands, clenched together. His knuckles were white, his expression strained.

“I would be in Azkaban, if not for you. My mother, too.” Draco said, furrowing his brows, “You saw me for… I don’t know. It’s that stupid savior complex you have.” 

Draco seemed to notice as Harry’s eyes drifted to the black ink on his forearm; he tugged his sleeve down and cleared his throat, “Mother convinced me to visit. Flowers were my idea, I guess,” He laughed dryly, “Never understood how you could manage to save everyone.”

“I didn’t.” Harry said, staring at the popping grease of the bacon, “Remus, Tonks, Fred…,” 

“That’s not what I meant, Harry.” Draco scowled, “me. You saw something worth saving in me- and now, I’ll acknowledge I was a prick in school. I was overcompensating, I was trying to be…,” 

“You were doing what your father taught you to do.” Harry said, thinking that he had finished Draco’s loss for words, “Right?”

“See, there you go again,” Draco said, “I’m responsible for my own actions, Harry, it was- well, I-,”

The tea whistling interrupted him once again, but he seemed relieved. Harry didn’t understand why, if he was having such a difficult time spitting it out, why he didn’t just go along with what Harry said and leave it at that; but no, this was Draco. 

“Do you like sugar in your tea?” Harry asked, pouring the contents of the kettle into two teacups. 

Draco nodded, “Sugarcubes, or spoonfuls?”

“Spoonfuls.”

“One, then.” Draco said. 

Harry did as he asked, and then turned around and placed the teacup in front of him. 

Draco stared at the tea, his hands cupping the air surrounding the tea. He shook his head of whatever he was thinking, and then delicately took it by the handle. 

“You may… want to sit down for this, Harry.” Draco said, his voice surprising Harry as he turned back to put the strips of bacon onto the three plates he had prepared, “I don’t want to alarm you.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, and he magically put the rest of the food onto their respective plates. He turned the stovetop off manually. 

He began to walk towards Draco, a hand resting on his wand warily. He didn’t distrust Draco, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t wary. Harry sat, raising his teacup to his lips with raised brows. 

Draco scanned his face, almost sad, as he held his teacup with both hands. He sighed, and his eyes followed the teacup as he set it back down. He seemed stiff as a board, and Harry wanted to comfort the man he had previously only wanted the worst for. 

“I had a lot going on when I was a teenager, Harry,” His silver eyes glistened on the surface of the dark tea, his fingernails drumming against the fake marble counters, “Voldemort… he was beginning to come over, more and more. I always knew my father was a Death Eater, but, well, it never felt so solid before. It was unsettling, I felt like old Voldy could- see right into my soul.

“And when I got branded- without my consent- it broke my mother’s heart. I was supposed to murder Dumbledore at sixteen, and I was too much of a coward to do it. I was angry then, but I’m glad I didn’t, now.” Draco’s shoulders sank, “I- I was coming to terms with a lot of things. A lot of things I was afraid of. A lot of things that would disappoint my father.” 

“Draco,” Harry tried to ease the name into existence, “You’re not- I apologize if I’m misinterpreting you, but-,”

“Yes, I’m coming out to you, Potter!” Draco said, frustrated. Shock filled his face as he realized himself.

Harry was a bit shocked, too, “Oh! Well, uhm, if that’s all you needed to get off your chest-,”

Harry began to rise nervously, but something in Draco’s stony expression made him stay.

“You know that isn’t all.” Draco said, his tongue less venomous than Harry expected, “I shouldn’t have been so horrible to you. And I’m sorry, Harry. I just didn’t know any better.”

“It’s okay, Draco.” Harry said, thinking that he understood.

“I don’t feel that way towards you. Not anymore.” Draco smiled, and a weight seemed to be lifted off his shoulders, “Mother told me I should tell you. So I can finally start anew.”

Harry nodded, “So, let me get this straight- you had a crush on me? Back in school? And you- bullied me?”

“I know it wasn’t right to hurt you. I didn’t know how else-,” Draco started, taking a sip of his tea, “You shouldn’t have accepted me here, with such welcome arms. You shouldn’t have done that for me at the ministry, either. But, thank you.” 

“You weren’t very clear about it. No matter how much Ron joked.” Harry shook his head and took a long drink of tea.

“And you didn’t. Ginny.” Draco said. 

“I think I’m best alone.” Harry said, laughing, “I’ve got a toddler to look after, maybe I’ll get on a dating website once I’ve shipped Ted off to Hogwarts. I know you’ll take care of ‘im, hm?”

Draco laughed too, “I can’t promise anything if he’s like my cousin. Is he a wild one?”

“Very wild.” Harry took a glance behind him, “Why, there’s the wild child now!”

Teddy stood in the doorway of Harry’s bedroom, rubbing his eyes as he looked at his cousin and godfather conversing; he seemed rather bored by the important conversation. 

“Good morning, Theodore.” Draco said formally, as Teddy toddled over. 

“No.” Teddy furrowed his brow as he reached up to Harry, his fingernails digging into his leg.

“Hullo, little one, how did you sleep?” Harry asked, standing so he could pick Teddy up, “Do you remember waking up earlier?”

Teddy shook his head, “Juice?” 

Harry sighed, shifting Teddy to his side, “It’s always something with these. He hates Theodore, by the way. That’s what he’s called when he’s punished.”

Draco’s mouth formed an o.

“Well, wouldn’t want our brekkie to get cold, would we? We were waiting on you to get up,”

“We were,” Draco confirmed.

“And don’t worry, Draco, conversation’s not over. I’m a wonderful wingman, you know.” Harry said, “Lots of aurors who may be interested in a bloke like you,”

Draco rolled his eyes as he took another drink of tea, but smiled despite himself, “No Scottish wizards, you can't understand a word they say.”

And Harry smiled, “Of course, Draco.”

**Author's Note:**

> sorry to have fooled you into thinking this was full-fledged! critiques always welcome :)


End file.
